Cold as a Corpse
by juggernaut715
Summary: The Captain of the Tenth Division wakes up in a shack. He has no memories of anything. This shack happens to be in Azeroth, in Tirisfal Glades. Not sure where it will go, but tell me what you think.


The first question was; "Where am I?" The boy blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness in front of him. He could tell he was in a wooden structure from the texture of the wooden floor beneath him and the wall he lay back against. Even in the dark, he could tell that the stray strands of hair in front of his eyes were as white as snow, and dirty with sweat and, well, dirt. What had he been _doing?_ With a grunt, he forced himself to hunch forward and sit up straight, away from the wall. He was tired, but instinct told him not to sleep, not until he knew where he was, and whether or not he was in danger.

As he stood, he felt a sensation on his back; weight. Upon reaching for the cause of the sensation with his hand he found a hilt, and searching with his fingers the makings of a sword. He frowned, brow furrowing though no one could see it. He had no recollection of being a swordsman. And with that lapse in memory came a realization.

He did not know his name. He did not know his age, where he had come from, why he was here, who he was, how he looked...anything. Aside from the sword on his hip, the rough feeling of clothes on his body, and the white hair on the top of his head, he knew nothing about himself. Aside from the wooden surroundings, he knew nothing of where he was.

This was not good. Not good at all.

He squinted, forcing his eyes to search the darkness for a hint as to what he should do. No-not just that, a hint as to _anything._ Any information about himself, perhaps? He couldn't see anything. Nothing. Just the white hair in front of his eyes, which was starting to get quite irritating. He slicked his hair back with one hand as he reached out with the other, taking tentative steps forward. He shuffled his feet to avoid tripping over anything, but did so anyways, on what felt like a mysteriously placed banana. As a result, his face made impact with wood, and the wood gave way to the outer world; he'd crashed face first into the door of where he was.

The dirt he faceplanted into was cold, but dry. He pushed himself up and blinked at his surroundings, taking a moment to glance up at the sky. The moon was shrouded by clouds, and all around him and the little shack he'd fallen out of were gloomy trees with no leaves. Everything was a variation of gray or black or some other depressing dismal color. The stars and moon in the sky were the only source of light available, but they were enough for him to see a trail leading away from where he kneeled on the ground. With no other leads to follow, he stood up and started walking.

His clothes, he examined in the moonlight, were simple; a green tunic and pants, and a blue sash around his torso attached to the sword on his back. He wore no shoes, evident by the 'ouch' he muttered every once in a while when he stepped on a particularly nasty rock. The trail was barely discernable from the rest of the forest, but he managed to stay on it until he reached a large stone entryway to who-knows-where. There was faint light inside from moss on the ceiling, but not much. Swallowing the fear threatening to turn him back, he strode into the cave, gently unsheathing his sword to defend himself from anything inside. He wasn't prepared for the sash across his torso to melt into water, for that water to wrap around his sword, and for that sword to come aglow with energy. Ice formed, taking the form of a serpent, with glowing red eyes that stared him down. The cave was larger than he thought upon entering, as this frozen serpent was so large that it encircled him thrice in the span of ten seconds. He nearly dropped his sword, but couldn't; his grip was contiguous to a clamp out of fear.

The ice serpent lowered its head so that its red eyes were level with his own, and an icy maw opened up to reveal pointy icicle teeth.

"**You have forgotten my name."** It intoned. It literally roared these words, mixed in with snarling and growling. It was not a language the boy recognize, but he could inherently understand it. "**My name, along with everything else. I will attempt to rectify this problem." **The jaws opened wider and a blast of cool air billowed _through_ the boy. A few choice memories came back to him, but not all of them. It was enough, though.

"Hyorin...maru." The serpent smiled, icicles bared.

"**I cannot find the rest of your memories...but I can give you my name; you've already earned it once, and there is no reason for you not to earn it again." **The serpent shrunk,entwining itself around the boy's form in a thin rope of ice and cold. "**How much else do you remember?"**

"I..." The boy's brow furrowed, and his grip tightened even further. "Nothing else. Only your name, and a command to summon you. I can't remember why I have a frost serpent as a sword, much less a talking one."

"**I would give your name unto you, but I cannot remember it either."**

_That's disappointing. _

"**I can tell you this much; you are far older than you appear, and you were the Captain of the Tenth Division."** The icicles 'frowned' once more. "**You are also..." **He blanked out as well, looking as sheepish as a giant ice snake could. "**I will try to summon my own memories first, and I will tell you what I find."** The ice began to thaw, and the red eyes turned into water. "**If you need me, you need only call."**

The boy sheathed the sword on his back, a lot more on his mind than had been a few minutes ago. This serpent of ice, Hyorinmaru...he recalled only that he and this serpent held a relationship deeper than a man wielding a sword. Something more, but he couldn't remember what. He sighed, blinking at the fog his breath created. He waved his hand through it, finding the temperature much lower than previously.

_What the hell..._

_**I can't recall the reasoning behind it, but you are as cold as I am.**_ The boy jumped, looking around for his sword, only to hear a dark chuckle in that odd language in his head.

_What's the reasoning behind that, snake? _

No response. Only a cool silence in the back of his mind. The boy cursed, muttering things about frozen snake stew under his breath. So much for being there when he called. It would appear the serpent resided in his brain when it wasn't outside.

"So..." He wondered aloud. "I was a Captain of the Tenth Division...of what, exactly?" The snake stayed silent, and the boy resigned himself to the fact the frostbitten reptile would probably only speak if it was truly important. It's not like his memories were important or anything. "Call me Captain..." He murmured, scowling at the narrowing passage before him. He'd exited the main area where the glowing moss had provided light for their conversation, but now he was in the real dark, the only way to tell what lay ahead the sense of touch in his fingertips. Rough stone was all around him, and he continued forward, having to suck his gut and turn sideways to pass through a particularly narrow area.

When he stumbled into another moss lit area, he scowled further. It was not as big as the previous one; in fact, it was barely big enough for three of him to fit inside, and the wall before him was covered in cracks and symbols. He didn't recognize any of the foreign words scribbled on the stone, but he traced one particularly large crack with his finger as he tried to read what _looked_ like his native language.

The stone gave way under his gentle touch. He coughed; dust had been kicked up from the stone falling apart, and he was temporarily subdued. Feeling with his hands, he through the dust cloud and felt...wood? He waved a hand, making what was in front of him a bit more visible; a plank of wood. He pressed his palm against it, and it creaked, opening like a door. He stumbled through, gasping for air, then glanced back.

He'd just passed through a coffin. Nevermind that it didn't have a body in it; it was a _coffin._ Looking around he guessed he'd ended up in some underground mausoleum or something.

"About time you woke up." A guttural voice growled from a few feet away. He spun, then withheld a screech of terror at the sight of a rotting corpse talking to him. It held a lantern in its hand, and was looking at him with something distantly similar to curiosity. "I was waiting for that coffin to open up for days. We were ready to crack it open and toss you in the fire like the other truly dead." He shrugged. "But it looks like you made it."

"R-Right." The boy managed, still at odds with talking to a living corpse. He flinched when the deadman gave a deep bow, his bones cracking with every degree he lowered.

"I am Mordo, caretaker of the Deathknell crypt. And you, whoever you are, are the Lich King's slave no longer." In a swift motion no one with rigor mortis could possibly perform, Mordo flicked a large book into one hand, clenched his teeth around the handle of the lantern, and produced a quill from his pocket with the other hand. "_Fusugname?"_ The boy went 'huh?' Mordo rolled his yellow eyes, snapping the book shut and putting it under his arm pit to pull the lantern out of his mouth. "What's your _name?_ Got to put you in the registry." He took the lantern handle back in his teeth and opened the book expectantly.

The boy blanked out.

_Fuck. Serpent-I mean, Hyorinmaru, did you figure out my name yet?_

No answer.

_Fuck._

"D-duh..." He stuttered, eyes flittering around the room for inspiration, finding none. "My name is, uh..."

"Can't remember?" Mordo had taken the lantern out of his mouth again. He looked peeved. "My name isn't my original name. You think a woman would name her son Mordo? Only an orc would be so cruel." The boy didn't ask what an Orc was, but he suspected it was bad. "I was given my name by Shadow Priest Sarvis, whom you'll have to speak to once you exit this crypt. But I suppose in his place I can come up with something for you." Yellow eyes skimmed over the boy's figure, and the man hummed. "We'll call you Gink. You look like a Gink, anyhow." Once again, the boy did not ask for the man to define his terms.

"Gink." He repeated, immediately disliking the name, but sighed as he saw Mordo already writing it man removed the lantern handle from his mouth once more, giving 'Gink' another visual examination.

"Gink...Coldarra. That'll be your last name. Gink Coldarra. Cause even from _here_ I can feel how cold you are; you ought to be a mage, a frost one at that." These terms fell on deaf ears, but Mordo was already ushering Gink towards the stairs with a spindly finger. "Speak with Shadow Priest Sarvis in the chapel at the base of the hill. He will tell you the rest of what you need to know."

Gink moved without hesitation, getting as far away from the walking corpse as fast as he could. Up the stairs he went, three sets of them, until the same bleak and gloomy setting was revealed to him as before he entered the cave. A cobblestone road led away from the crypt and down the hill; he walked down it, feeling how the cold stone beneath his feet tingled his senses. Now that he thought about it his body temperature was totally unnatural, and yet, natural to him.

Upon passing a rusty iron fence that had twisted this way and that for whatever reason, he found himself approaching the chapel. It was the part of a tiny town, one filled with...more corpses. Gink swallowed air, trying to calm his nerves. If he could just retrieve his memories he'd probably understand everything around him, including how the _dead were walking._ At least they weren't trying to kill him for being alive. Hell, Mordo actually seemed like a pretty nice guy, or at least would be when he wasn't working. When one of the undead guardsmen caught sight of him, however, he found hostility that hadn't witnessed in the caretaker.

"HUMAN!" He shouted, unsheathing his sword and charging towards Gink faster than a cadaver should be able to. Bones cracked with each step, but the blow that he landed was still as strong as it would have been had his body not been decaying. Gink met blade with blade, the sword in his hands moving of its own volition. He still couldn't remember ever using a sword before, but it was apparent that even without consciously wanting to wield it he was doing so anyways. The serpent did not come out; he hadn't called for it. The other nearby walking dead noticed this altercation and more weapons were raised. He cursed under his breath. Wake up in a shack, find out your sword is actually a mystical ice serpent, walk through a coffin in a crypt, and then get killed by the undead.

"_Silence!"_ Came an authoritative shout from his left. The person he currently faced backed off immediately, fear etched on his features. Gink pondered why, but found himself floating off the ground with shadowy tendrils curling around him. He was turned in midair to face a man of hunched posture and purple hair. An odd looking mask covered his face in a sort of 'x' and his clothes consisted of an elaborate red robe and a staff in his right hand. The staff was glowing the same dark energy as that which held Gink up. The man took steps forward, and Gink noticed he had come from the direction of the cathedral.

"What's all this nonsense about a _human _being in _Deathknell?_" The man snarled, giving the man who'd attacked Gink a good whack on the head with a bony fist. "Look!" He slapped the back of the man's head, pointing him towards the crypt. "Look where he came from! You think a living human's gonna come from there? Hmm?" He turned to Gink. "Much less one so young..." His brow furrowed and the restraints around Gink's body were released; he fell on his ass. The man loomed over him, and a bony hand grabbed Gink by the collar, hoisting him off the ground. The stench from the man was nearly enough to make him wretch.

"Hmm..." The man's eyes focused on Gink's own, and the man pressed a finger of pure bone against the boy's forehead. "Yep. You're definitely dead. Ice cold, just like the rest of us. Must be because you're so young that none of your bones are sticking out of you. I am Shadow Priest Sarvis. What is your name?"

"G-Gink."

"Gink. You look like a mage-hell, you _feel_ like a mage." He was released, landing on his feet. "I will talk to the mage trainer, see if I can't get you an appointment. In the meantime, go kill some of the mindless ones. Whereas we have our minds intact, they are broken, and must be put out of their misery. Do a favor for your fellow Forsaken, lad, and I'll explain your heritage when you return." He turned and walked back to the chapel, leaving Gink alone as the crowd dispersed.

"W-Wait!" He called, raising a hand, far too late; Sarvis didn't hear him. He lowered his hand slowly, and then stared at his open palm. "So...I'm dead?"

The serpent still didn't answer.


End file.
